By LastCrazyHorn

Word Count: 105891

Rating: PG-13 for brief language, violence, and depictions of abuse

Summary: A disabled Harry comes to Hogwarts story. Everyone expects him to be like his dad, but how can he be with such a different past? A Slytherin Harry takes on Hogwarts in an unusual way.

“As much as I’d like you to pull me and Teddy from Defense, you know you can’t do it. It’s too obvious,” Harry said; shrugging when Moody jerked in what he assumed was a snort.

“Then what would you suggest, oh wise son of mine?” Severus pressed, raising his eyebrow in an all too familiar way.

“Take out all of the first year Slytherins.”

Severus nodded at Moody as though he were saying, ‘See? He recognizes the difficulty too.’

“Just the first year Slytherins, Harry?” Moody countered, his eye glinting almost as maniacally as his constantly swirling one.

“It’d be pretty suspicious with any more, wouldn’t it?” Harry countered.

Moody’s eye narrowed thoughtfully. “Actually lad—,” he stopped and turned his attention to Severus. “Didn’t Slughorn do somethin’ like that back in the day? Pull all of his house out for some reason or another? I seem to be rememberin’ Dumbledore getting’ his knickers in a twist over it.”

Severus snorted at Moody’s description but then calmed himself and nodded. “He pulled all of us from Transfiguration for three weeks during my 4th year.”

Harry frowned and looked at his father. “Why did he do that?”

“There was a fight in her 7th year class between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. The Gryffindor made a number of unfounded accusations regarding the Slytherin’s loyalties, and in response, the girl hexed him.”

“Seems pretty normal,” Harry suggested slowly.

“All except Minerva’s response, it was. She gave the Slytherin detention, but did not punish the Gryffindor.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” Harry asked with a grin, eyeing his father.

“Ah,” Severus answered, holding up a long finger, “But there is more. On the way out the door, the Gryffindor laughed and called the girl the ‘Dark Lord’s whore.’”

Harry felt his jaw drop slightly. “McGonagall didn’t do anything about that? Not even take points?”

“Not one thing. Slughorn insisted that Minerva punish the boy in question, and when she did not, he pulled his entire house from attending her classes for the next three weeks. It might have gone on indefinitely, if not for Dumbledore’s intervention.”

At the mention of the headmaster, Harry’s mouth twisted into a snarl and he crossed his arms defensively in front of him. “He waited three weeks? I bet he agreed with McGonagall and only got involved because someone else made him.”

“Something like that, lad,” Moody said after touching his shoulder to get his attention.

“Does that mean you could pull all of the Slytherins from Defense then? Wouldn’t you have to have had some kind of argument with Quirrell?”

“I suspect I could merely cite his incompetence and leave it at that,” Severus said with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“O’ course,” Moody interjected, none of this matters if we can’t find a way to teach the class.”

“You wouldn’t have time with all of us, would you,” Harry asked Severus, his lips pressed together in concern.

“I would not,” Severus agreed.

“And Grandfather can’t do it, since you two don’t give a crap about one another,” Harry murmured, putting his head in his hand and missing Moody’s surprised expression.

“Not without a great deal of vocal opposition from me,” Severus said, mostly to himself. He leaned over to where Harry was seated beside him and touched his shoulder to get his attention again. “What are you thinking?”

Harry looked at his father with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What if you did try to teach all of the classes yourself—let Dumbles think you’re crazy, yeah?”

Severus snorted, but did not yet comment. He leaned back in his seat and waited for the rest of it.

“And what if Moody were to find you at it and raise a big stink with Dumbles about the horrible Death Eater teaching dark arts to the young children?”

The expectant look in Severus’ eyes suddenly shifted to calculating, and it was Harry that leaned back to wait this time.

“Moody would need to have a plausible reason for being here at that particular time,” Severus said at last.

A detail stuck in Harry’s mind and he turned to Moody and asked, “How exactly are you getting away with being here all the time now?“

One side of Moody’s weathered face creaked upwards into the semblance of a smile, and he crooked a thumb at Severus. “Albus has got me spying on Snape here.”

From the raised eyebrows on his father’s face, Harry surmised that Moody hadn’t told him about that yet.

“Any particular reason that the old chess master no longer trusts me?” Severus asked; his lips slightly white and his tone strained—though Harry was only aware of the former.

“I ‘spect it has somethin’ to do with your care of Harry here.”

A raised eyebrow was his only response.

“I’m thinkin’ he was expecting you to raise a fuss about havin’ him in your house; maybe even getting a resorting out of the deal in the process. Only—.”

“—Only I managed to put aside my prejudices and look at Harry’s needs, as opposed to his pedigree,” Severus interjected with a frown.

Wanting to divert the discussion away from himself and back onto the problem at hand, Harry said, “Well, then that means we have a plausible reason for Moody’s presence.”

“How often are you slated to be here at the castle?” Severus asked, flicking his eyes once in Harry’s direction as though to say that, ‘Yes, I am aware that you’re deflecting us.’

Moody grinned that same grin once more and opened his hands out in front of him. “Why Severus, I didn’t know you cared.”

At Severus’ scowl though, he continued, “As it happens, Albus has assigned me quarters just a few corridors away from here.”

“And you were going to tell us when?” Severus snapped back, his mouth moving almost too fast for Harry’s eyes to track.

“Oh come off it Severus, it’s not like yeh don’t have secrets of your own,” Moody responded.

“You should have told us,” Harry said, feeling more on the side of his father than his grandfather. He knew what it was like to be betrayed by supposed family members.

“Listen then,” Moody leaned forward. “I didn’t tell yeh, ’cause I didn’t want to say nothing until this was official,” he said, waving his hand toward them. “Didn’t want ta take no chances of something goin’ wrong.”

Harry leaned back, somewhat mollified by Moody’s words.

“And it is acceptable to you if something goes wrong now?” Severus carefully asked.

“All told, I’d rather Albus kept his crooked nose out of it for the foreseeable future. But you and I both know that the chances of that ain’t likely. He’s got his finger on the pulse of this castle, though you have ta know he isn’t omniscient. He’s got spies everywhere; even a few that aren’t aware they’re spies.”

“The walls are listening,” Harry said, thinking aloud, once more reminded of Severus’ words from earlier that year.

“Aye, lad, that they are,” Moody answered, his whirling eye briefly settling on Harry’s face in an unnerving way.

. . .

“Ah Remus, it’s good to see you,” Albus Dumbledore greeted him as he stepped through the floo. “Please, have a seat.”

Remus sat down in a squashy armchair a few feet away from Dumbledore’s desk and a moment later a cup of steaming tea appeared by his right hand. He took it and sipped carefully, using his werewolf senses to check for hidden potions. Finding none, he smiled and allowed himself to relax into the chair a bit.

“How may I help, headmaster?” He asked. He had gotten an owl from Dumbledore early that morning asking him to come to Hogwarts as soon as he had a chance. The only other thing mentioned was a vague reference to his use in aiding the child of one of his old classmates, but he had a feeling it had to do with Harry. He hoped the boy wasn’t in any kind of trouble. He had seen the copy of Daily Prophet the day after the first of term, and had been rather surprised to find that the boy had been sorted into Slytherin.

Then again, he thought with a touch of amusement, James was rather sneaky himself! If not for the pureblood mania, he might have done well there too.

“I asked you to come in the hopes that you might be able to provide something of a mentorship with young Harry Potter,” Albus said from his seat behind his desk. The old man’s hands were folded atop its wooden surface, and he looked every bit the role of an elderly grandfather smiling down benevolently upon one of his children.

To be truthful, Dumbledore’s grandfatherly image had always inspired a bit of wariness within Remus. He had also seen this man angry, and the two visages were completely at odds with one another.

“Has Severus not welcomed him within the house?” Remus asked, probing for the actual reason behind Dumbledore’s request.

“No, no,” Dumbledore answered with a chuckle. “Nothing like that. Severus has been every bit as supportive as he ever is with one of his snakes. It’s simply that,” the man paused and spread his hands out. “Harry has no connections with his past; no ties to any of his own history, other than what the newspapers print, and you know how many times they actually get anywhere near the truth.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled kindly behind his half-moon glasses and Remus nodded in agreement.

“I was simply wondering if you could spend a little time getting to know the boy. Perhaps you could take a room here for a week or two—,” Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall any complaints Remus might have had. “No, I know that you think you shouldn’t be able to live here for free, but this is just you doing a favour for an old man.” The man smiled and pulled out a package of lemon drops from inside his robe. “Lemon drop, my boy? My apologies for not offering them sooner.”

“No, thank you, headmaster,” Remus declined.

“I believe that Harry would benefit from getting to know one of his father’s old friends. Perhaps you could tell him a few stories about his days here at Hogwarts? I believe that Harry is quite a talented flyer, much like James was.”

“How will this benefit Harry? I don’t want to drag up any bad memories for him,” Remus said slowly, still not entirely certain of why Dumbledore wanted him here.

“I want to establish a support system for him outside of the Slytherins,” Dumbledore said gravely, his eyes no longer twinkling. “I think that regardless of their current support of the boy, we both know what they’re like under pressure, and I have no desire to see him hurt in the process.”

And what are they like ‘under pressure?’ Remus thought with his eyes carefully diverted from Dumbledore’s own piercing blue gaze. He could think of more than a few Gryffindors that had buckled under pressure, but he didn’t want to remember those things.

“And what if he is not willing to talk with me?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer just as a knock sounded at the door.

. . .

An out of breath 4th year Hufflepuff had interrupted McGonagall’s 1st year Slytherin/Gryffindor class to tell Harry that the headmaster had requested his presence in his office.

“The password is ‘Rolos,’” the girl had told him after he had exited the classroom, his bag draped over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he’d responded, feeling his palms becoming sweaty at the idea of facing Dumbles straight on.

He had exchanged a worried look with Hermione and Teddy for half a second before quickly gathering his things. McGonagall had only stared at him and he’d ducked his head to avoid her eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, only a minute after he had left, Hermione Granger requested to go to the toilet. Once out of the classroom though, she ran as hard as she had dared over uneven stones and stairwells all the way down to the dungeons where Professor Snape was teaching a mixed Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw 2nd year class.

One look at her face and heaving chest and he’d immediately cancelled the class, leaving a number of bewildered badgers and ‘claws to clean up their stations without supervision.

“Harry’s been called to the headmaster’s office,” she gasped out when he’d met her in the hallway.

“To what purpose?” He asked tersely, already walking at a fast pace back in that direction.

She could only shake her head and with a muttered curse, he had left her at a run.

. . .

His heart pounding wildly, Harry rode the stairwell up to what he presumed was the headmaster’s office. He had knocked and had to stifle a wild burst of laughter when he realised he would not be able to hear a response. Thankfully, fate was looking down on him and the door opened on its own seconds later.

“Ah, Harry m’boy,” Dumbles had said, from what Harry could see through the man’s whiskers.

A heavy ball of dread settling firmly into his stomach, he crossed the threshold, somewhat surprised at seeing another man in the room as well.

“I’d like you to meet—.”

“Remus Lupin,” the unknown man interrupted, stepping forward to extend a hand to Harry.

He shook it lightly, not liking the other man’s proximity one bit. Panic—and no small amount of fury at the sight of his ultimate betrayer—was fighting to burst through his body and he had to clench every muscle down in his body to keep from destroying the room with his magic. Somehow, he doubted that the wizarding world would look very kindly upon anyone who killed Dumbledore, no matter the reason.

Assuming he can be killed, Harry thought wildly, avoiding Dumbledore’s eyes by focusing instead on the pale man in front of him.

“I went to school with your father, Harry,” the man told him, waving a hand as though to invite him further into the room.

Severus? Was his immediate thought before he mentally slapped himself.

He leaned carefully on his crutch and tried to come up with a plausible reason for his leaving the office. Perhaps he could claim sickness? He certainly felt sick. Dumbledore was staring—staring—at him and the other man was talking again, though he couldn’t really focus on what he was saying. Something about Hogwarts and old friends and that ‘how you’ve grown’ bullshit that he’d come to expect with “Aunt” Marge and Dudley.

Perhaps he’s family? But if that’s so, why didn’t he take me instead of leaving me at the Dursleys?

He didn’t know what to think, but luckily he didn’t have to, because a moment later something clunked underfoot and he turned around to see his father entering the room.

. . .

Harry stared up at him with a wild abandon that Severus remembered from the day he had broken down during one of their private lessons. He was out of breath, having run nearly the entire way here, but he was doing a good job of keeping it under wraps. He had cast a cooling charm seconds before entering and he hoped that it would keep his complexion at its normal sallow state.

“Ah Severus, what a pleasant surprise,” Dumbledore said merrily, as though he hadn’t been involved in a private meeting with one of his first years.

“Headmaster,” Severus greeted with an inclined head. “I believe we agreed that I would always be informed about any meetings between yourself and one of my underage students?” He said, hiding his fury the conniving old bastard behind several deep level mental shields. Stepping forward, he laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He could feel the child’s tremors through his shoulder and his fury only grew.

“He’s not in any trouble, Severus,” Dumbledore cajoled. “Just a friendly meeting between him and an old friend.”

Ah yes, the werewolf, Severus thought, eyeing the other man with disdain. Old friend, my half-blooded arse.

“Regardless, I insist that in the future I am given warning about any clandestine meetings you have planned with any of my snakes, and that we schedule them together accordingly.”

“Severus, my boy, always the paranoid one,” Dumbledore teased with a glance at Remus. “Perhaps you gentlemen would like to take a walk then? I must excuse myself. The paperwork grows whenever I look away.”

Severus turned Harry toward the door and then followed after him, not even looking back to see if the werewolf was following. He would just as soon he didn’t.

Unfortunately, Lupin’s presence reasserted itself beside them as soon as they were on level ground.

“So, Harry, may I call you Harry?” Lupin tried, but with Severus in-between them, Harry couldn’t possibly be expected to see what the man was saying.

“Must we really do this now, Lupin?” Severus growled, shooting a hard glare at the man to his left. He glanced down at Harry and mentally swore at the boy’s pale face and sweat tinged hairline.

“I think it would be beneficial to Harry,” Lupin responded defiantly, his amber eyes glowing in challenge.

“Do you now,” Severus sneered. “Then I suggest we do it in private,” he added, pointing at an abandoned classroom to their right.

“We, Severus?”

“I’m certainly not going to leave you alone with him,” was his scowled response. Gryffindors! He had hoped that Lupin would be smarter than to walk into a private room with a “retired” Death Eater, but clearly the man was more dunderheaded than he had thought, because he followed without another word.

The man merely watched as Severus laid a number of privacy wards upon the door behind them and then took a seat in one of the dusty desks scattered throughout the room.

With a look of disdain, Severus waved his wand over two of the more stable looking desks and muttered a cleaning charm. Then he transfigured them into two straight backed chairs and indicated that Harry should take a seat. He had arranged them so they were all sitting at an angle to one another, in the hope that Harry would be able to follow the conversation—if he so desired. Severus certainly wished he could ignore it all.

“What’s going on, Severus? More importantly, what happened to him?” Remus started with, his congenial tone giving away to something a little more wild.

Severus shuddered internally at the thought, but kept his outer image calm. No need to show fear to the creature, after all.

. . .

Harry zoned out a bit as Severus explained—rather tersely—about some of his injuries.

He remembered the old condemned apartment house he had been living in when Moody had tracked him down.

“Is that you, Harry?” The older man had asked after limping in with all the stealth of a dying hippopotamus.

“Who’s asking?” He’d been upright immediately, a wooden crutch under his right arm even though his balance was nearly perfect. It helped to look weak; it made people assume things and he took great delight in showing them how very wrong they’d been.

The weight of one of his knives was hidden in his sleeve and he had a dozen more across his body. He was used to fighting for his home.

“Name is Moody,” The grizzled old man said, eyeing him like he was a wild animal. “I’ve been lookin’ for you.”

“How d’ya know you’ve got who you’re looking for?” He’d reasoned as he fingered his knife and imagined where he’d strike if the man came any closer.

The man smiled and Harry had narrowed his eyes, ready to escape if he turned out to be here for something other than just a fight.

“Your scar, lad. The one on your forehead,” the man had said.

Automatically, Harry’s free hand had gone up to touch the scar that was hidden behind his too-long fringe.

“What do you want?” He’d ask, watching with some trepidation as the man—Moody—had reached inside one of his coat pockets.

. . .

“Cub?”

Harry jerked backwards, not from Remus’ voice—which he couldn’t hear, but from the settling of unfamiliar fingers on his wrist.

“You don’t remember me do you?” Remus asked after quickly removing his fingers.

Harry, still somewhat lost in his memories, shook his head ‘no.’

“I called you ‘cub’ when you were a baby. I used to give you piggyback rides and you’d ride on my shoulders beating a pot with one of your mum’s serving spoons. I used to say that you’d cause me to go deaf before my time, but your father would just laugh and say that at least I’d enjoy myself in the process.”

Harry felt a sour ball of resentment settle into his stomach as this man talked about what a happy time it had been early on for them all. He didn’t remember any happiness. He didn’t remember his father or his mother, so why should this man with the ragged robes get to rub his face in it?

“I would have taken you if Albus had let me, but he was adamant about you staying out of the magical world until you were a bit older.”

“Why?” Harry asked, confused.

“Surely you know the reason for your fame?”

Harry nodded, feeling that bitter resentment in his chest merely continue to grow.

“Albus always said that he wanted you to have a normal childhood without the extra fuss of being famous,” Remus said solemnly, eyeing his crutch and his scars as he spoke.

Harry felt the almost undeniable urge to laugh hysterically and he clamped down on it tightly, lest he completely lose control.

“And you couldn’t have given me a normal childhood?” He asked instead, breathing through his nose as he quietly practiced one of the occlumency meditations that Severus had taught him. He could feel the presence of his father next to him; a dark warm being that radiated concern and was ready to jump in the minute he was needed. It helped him keep calm to have him there and he was glad that Severus had insisted on coming.

“I . . . haven’t the financial resources to raise a child,” Remus explained slowly, causing Harry to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

The Dursleys had certainly never spent very much on him, and while he would have been poor living with Remus at least it would have been life.

“Where do you work?”

“I . . .” there was that same hesitancy and Harry wondered just what kind of man this person was. Was he an alcoholic? Vernon had lost promotions because of too many hangovers—despite blaming his problems on Harry.

“I’m a teacher,” Remus said finally in the blank silence that seemed to fill Harry’s mind.

Harry glanced at Severus and then back at Remus. Severus wasn’t rich, but he was comfortable.

“I’m not some rich kid who needed a lot. You could have taken me in. You could have raised me yourself,” Harry accused, feeling the let-down of knowing that the Dursleys could have been avoided.

“There are other extenuating circumstances that prevented me from taking on that role. I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus said. He certainly looked sorry, but then why was Severus sneering so disdainfully at him?

“Never mind,” Harry responded, looking away. “It’s doesn’t matter. Done is done, right sir?” Harry asked, looking at Severus and trying to ignore the hurt expression on the other man’s face.

“It does matter, Harry. If I had known . . .”

“If you had known that I’d be a freak when you next saw me? You would have done something, yeah?” Harry spat, pulling up in his chair and cast steely eyes on this so-called ‘friend of his parents.’

“You are no such thing!” Remus protested, his pale cheeks turning pink with anger.

“Tell us what Dumbledore has requested of you,” Severus interjected, drawing Remus’ attention briefly away from Harry, letting him get in a few steadying breaths.

“Only to get to know Harry,” Remus said softly, turning back to give him an inscrutable look. “Albus said that you could do with a few mentors in your life, given your lack of parental figures.”

Harry scowled and Remus looked taken back at the dark look on his face.

“I didn’t say we had to be friends, even though I would like it. James and I were best friends,” Remus said, his large amber eyes looking suspiciously wet. “You are my last link to a trio of friends who are all dead or gone now. The knowledge that you’re alive is what has frequently sustained me these past ten years.”

Harry scowled more deeply, feeling his magic rearing up inside his chest at the man’s words. Alive, who is he kidding? A life like mine didn’t count as living!

“There were times,” Harry bit out harshly against a throat that seemed intent on swelling up. “There were times that I wished for death,” his jaw trembling despite his best efforts to maintain control. “Do you understand?” He got to his feet and stalked closer to the man. “Do you understand? I would have rather died than live there. Rather died,” he spat, taking pleasure in the man’s white face.

“You can’t mean that,” Remus whispered. Though Harry could not hear the difference, he could still see the shock on his face.

What did this man know about meaning things? What did this man know about him to make such a suggestion?

Abruptly the magic in his body burst from his control and several desks behind Remus erupted in flames.

Remus jumped up and scrambled away from the maelstrom of fire just as Harry felt Severus’ warm hand close gently over his left shoulder. His father didn’t have to speak to him as Harry took one steadying breath after the other until the fire died down. This time however, unlike the fire in the infirmary, Harry had actually burnt the desks and their charred remains continued to smoke even after the fire had been extinguished.

Harry turned his head and finally realised that Remus was talking to him.

“—if I could have.”

“What?” Harry growled.

“I would have found a way to take you in if only I could have found where Albus had placed you,” Remus repeated patiently, his eyes filled with undeniable sorrow.

The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly and Harry turned to look at his father.

“Did you not think to look at Lily’s remaining family?” Severus retorted, looking both murderous and calm at the same time. Harry took comfort in being able to tell that the anger was not directed at him.

“Of course not! Lily was adamant that he not go there. She made Dumbledore promise not to ever send him there!”

“Gryffindors,” Severus sneered. “Always so believing of another’s word.”

Then dawning horror as Remus understood.

“Tell me he didn’t,” Remus whispered, looking straight at Harry. In turn, Harry shifted uncomfortably under the man’s unrelenting gaze.

“Didn’t what?” Severus responded when Harry broke eye contact and glanced back at him.

“Dear Merlin,” Remus said in a choked voice. Abruptly he began pacing the room, causing Severus to move slightly in front of Harry.

Remus took no notice of them as he strode to the opposite side of the room. Harry could see his fists trembling white knuckled at his sides, but Severus could also hear the low rumblings of curses coming from his mouth.

Suddenly the window beside him imploded and Harry ducked behind his father as Severus hastily threw up a basic shield. Remus himself seemed unaware that there were now a thousand small cuts trickling blood across the right side of his face.

“That bastard!” Remus howled when he finally turned back around. “He swore he would never send him there! Lily knew what they were like, knew that they were barely fit enough to raise their own child, let alone one of ours!”

Harry could hardly believe that the man could be so naïve as to take the ramblings of a madman such as Dumbledore’s at face value. After all, he himself had known better at a much earlier age. Was this the difference between Slytherins and Gryffindors? A simple awareness of the issues? He shook his head and snorted bitterly to himself.

“Then you would swear upon your magic that you had no idea that Dumbledore had sent him to that place?” Severus interjected after Remus finally began winding down.

Remus looked him in the eye and said, “I swear it. Upon my magic, I didn’t know he would go there. Anywhere would have been better than that. Lily said it herself! ‘Send him to live with the house elves, send him to live with Filch! Just don’t send him to my ill-begotten sister and her monstrous rat of a husband!’”

There was a brief flicker of sadness that appeared on Severus’ face as Harry was watching the two men and then it was gone. Was he sad for him or was it something else? Had his father known his mother? It was a topic worth looking into.

As it was, it would have to wait. Their conference needed to end so that he and his father could get back to their respective classes before they were missed. Harry was sure that Transfiguration was already over, but Charms was due to start any minute and he certainly didn’t want to be late for that.

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